Everything
by nycforme
Summary: Three months after the horrible affair under the opera house, Christine is forced to come to terms with the decisions made by and for her. She leaves her place with Raoul to return to see the remnants of the life she was too afraid to want. Rated M for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a piece I wrote a while back that I hadn't wanted to publish at first, but I've just reread it and found I don't hate. I apologize for any editing or spelling mishaps, I do all of my own editing and no matter how many times I read my stories I find I always miss something! Hope you enjoy, reviews would be lovely. **

He didn't need to hear her voice now to know what she was thinking. Her willowy figure was nearly transparent in the moonlight, the white silk of her nightgown glowed against her paled skin. The skin that he had once thought of as something so creamy yet radiant now looked sallow and sunken; likewise her once silken locks were released around her shoulders. Her hair still gleamed in the white of the night, but it hung sadly around her thin physique as if it would swallow her in one. It was unruly, uncombed; her reedy arms were probably too weak now to tame it.

Raoul watched her stand by the window to the balcony for hours. She didn't know he was there, no it would be against propriety for _him_ to protect his own fiancé, but when other men tried to abduct her the notion was merely a "desperate plea for acceptance." Why couldn't he see that? It was easy to hear the tears in Christine's bell-like voice as if she was begging for her understanding even now, months later.

Christine's face was tilted completely to the moon, her eyes wide and shining as she stared up into the masterful presence. Entranced, she remained frozen, just as she had been for quite some time now. Raoul figured it was safe to pull himself from the shadows, if only slightly, to stand a little closer to her. There was a time, he recalled with a pain so deep he thought he could feel it ripping at the back of his throat, when taking a fraction of a step closer to her meant feeling the eternal warmth that absolutely beamed from her soul. The happiness that accompanied her innocence had been such a pleasure to behold and to think that he had once had the opportunity to grasp it for himself was overwhelming. To this day there was nothing more that he wanted than Christine to return, his Christine, to return to her happy state when merely the sight of her fiancé brought a smile to her face. To see her now, so lost and confused hurt him to the core.

A small hand reached up and grasped the curtains, Raoul had to contain a gasp at the sudden movement, he watched in confusion as her porcelain fingers curled around the thick material of the curtains. Her curtains, Raoul had to remind himself, her curtains which he had purchased for her by her request. She had specifically asked for thick, light blue curtains to replace the lacy white curtains he had first had in the room when she'd moved in.

It was his turn to be entranced as her figure sprang to life, clawing at the massive curtains that at this point probably weighed more than she did. Whimpers and gasps were audible as he watched tears race down her sunken cheeks, yet he waited, curiosity rooting him back into the shadows as his beautiful fiancé seemed overcome with madness. With a strength he did not realized she possessed he watched as her furious body yanked on the curtains until they were tumbling down. The sound of ripping material was hardly audible over her racking gasps for air and unintelligible words. Her tiny body positively heaved with effort as she pulled at the material, bare feet squeaking against the clean wood floors.

His body came to reality before his senses revived him from his shocked stupor. In long strides he was at her side, repeating her name in the gentlest chant he could, trying to force her to be still or at least see him in the eye. But she was thrashing helplessly in his arms, tears pouring from her wide eyes, arms still outstretched as if the curtains had done her a personal wrong.

"Christine!" Raoul attempted to demand her attention, fear setting in now. Horrified that he hadn't registered her odd behavior sooner, he clasped the icy and wet skin of her cheeks between his hands. Nails dug into his shoulders as she shrieked a noise so shrill and horrifying that he thought he might faint, goose bumps erupted over his skin as he moved a hand to cup her by the neck. She paid no attention to where he wanted to touch her, instead she threw herself onto his body, hugging herself to him with such abandon that he was afraid he would collapse under the force of her.

"Christine Daae! Look at me, for heaven's sake look at me, Christine! Christine, what is it? What's wrong?" The silence that followed this question was unsettling. Her pupils were blown wide as she tilted her head up to focus on him, as if she only just realized who was holding her. Quivering she clutched onto the material of his night robe in unspoken horror, still the tears travelled down her cheeks to stain the silk of the nightdress as she glanced around to see the curtains pulled to the floor. The heavy material ripped in some places, the placeholder on the wall tilted to the side from her vigorous efforts. Humor, he reminded himself, a light heartedness was what had managed to pull her from darkness in the past.

"Darling, if you didn't like them you could've simply asked for a change." She was in his shadow now, blinking up at him with a blank stare in her blue eyes.

"I'm sorry." It was a meager whisper from those thin lips which had once been so voluptuously full of summertime. His heart was frantic against his own ribcage as he clutched his shaking bride.

"Now, now don't be sorry. Why're you crying, dove?" Raoul pulled her back into a hug, hoping that maybe his warmth would rid her of the chill she'd carried with her so often. Running his fingers through her hair he listened as her breathing slowly returned to a normal pace, but still he could feel the dampness of her tears against the hallow of his neck.

"What's wrong, Christine?" A cool hand clasped the back of his neck, weak from exhaustion it was a half-hearted gesture out of kindness and, he bitterly assumed, sympathy.

"Christine," Raoul tried again. He clasped her chin in his fingers and forced a smile to his lips as he pushed his voice into the softest and most comforting whisper he could manage in such a state of worry, "what happened?"

"He didn't come for me….I don't know why," The tears were slowing now as she smiled up at her fiancé, "I don't know why I thought he would Raoul, but he didn't come for me. Oh but Raoul, I am still so frightened."

Her tiny body was pressed against his once again, her face buried into his neck as wisps of her cold hair tickled at his skin. Hands unsure of where to settle on her, he let them hang by his side as she clutched him tightly. And they stood like that for some time, sobs once again over taking her shivering body as he stood with her, his mind void of any arguments or explanation. At some point the sobs quieted as her throat dried out and she was simply shaking against him, hands firmly grasped in the material of his robe. With trembling hands of his own he led her back to her bed, pulling back the dark blue sheets and tucking her into the material. Silently, once convinced of her sleep, he stood to head back to his room but thin fingers grasped his wrist and tugged him to remain sitting on the edge of her bed.

She didn't open her eyes or say anything, simply feigning sleep but commanding his presence. Even in this horrid state of exhaustion and confusion she was the picture of perfection to his mind. Her curls danced across the silk pillow cases, her hands curled in the most elegant positions framing her face that simply exuded youth. She had cried out in fear that he would come for her, but she had stood waiting at that window for hours in hope of his presence.

Something in the back of his mind pressed forward, hoping to gain some answers from this. Was there a plan devised that had been kept secret from him? Would he awake in the morning to find her gone? Why had she acted out so strongly with the idea of his absence? The questions would have swirled in his mind had they not been so heavy, but now they thudded back and forth. Knocking against each other, mocking him with the picture of her innocent face as the source for such heartache. That was what it all came down to in the end, his love for her, for her every movement, for her every breath. He adored everything about her, from the fluttering of her eyelashes against sunken cheeks to the feet that had stamped so abhorrently against the floor as she tugged at those hideous curtains. He adored everything about her except that aching darkness down in her that kept her from being his completely. Truly, he wasn't sure if he would ever have her to call his own. Or if he would spend an eternity battling against a darkness that he had attempted to kill them months ago.

He would try, though, his tired mind decided against his will. Failure was not in his blood, he reminded himself as he allowed himself to relax onto the cool blanket next to her. Never crawling underneath it to help her find warmth, he laid in silence in the room he had designed for her. Scared that she would hear the painful pounding of his own heart he placed a hand to his chest, trying his best not to wake her with its audible thumping, hoping to heal the agony there with his own touch.

With eyes that struggled to remain open, even in the glowing moonlight that bled in from her windows, he did his best to focus on her soundless face. If he stared long enough, if he concentrated hard enough, if he loved long enough would the answers arise from those lips? In one last act of desperation before exhaustion overtook his senses, he placed one warm hand over her much smaller one, atop the blankets. In his grasp, her fragile digits seemed at home in his large hand. A warmth that he thought he had forgotten flowed through him as he felt her give his fingers a tentative squeeze. Wearily, he squeezed back before he sunk downwards into the lull of sleep that allowed his mind to come to silence, at last.


	2. Chapter 2

She had not intended to take action, she had not even considered taking _this_ action—if she were to take any at all. But here she was, standing in front of two magnificent doors that had once been so welcoming to her. The marble was chilled in the winter, little flurries of snow turning to water and running down the slate that framed the wooden doors. Her hand clasped around the knob and she pulled with all the strength that she could muster, hoping that tonight had been a night where Firmin had forgotten to place the lock in position. Relief flooded through her as the door gave into her tugging and she was able to slip inside into the slightly warmer opera house. If anyone was awake at such late hours of the evening, they may have seen a shimmering blue ghostly figure sliding into the large theatre.

The chill of winter did not melt away as she pulled the hood free. Trembling fingers tugged her cloak tighter around her body as she stepped further into the darkness of the theatre. With only a sconce near the front door lit, the theatre was flooded with nothing but shadows. The stage was bare, the set of _Don Juan Triumphant _had been discarded the day after that horrid night. Christine pushed the memories back, trying to her best to concentrate on the future as she reached out for the candle in the sconce. Wax dripped down the sides and burned at her icy fingers as she clutched it tightly, cursing her fingers for shaking despite the courage she had been so sure to build within herself.

The wax dripped over her pale fingers as she carried it with her, traveling up the stairs of the once beloved stage and into the wings. Scared to light more candles and give away her presence to any unwanted figure, she used the sole candle to guide her light back to her old dressing room. Unfaltering in her steps she yanked the door open, as she grew closer to her goal fear began to settle in. Fear and anxiety writhed around each other in the pit of her stomach, slithering up to squeeze at her heart and lungs. Gasping for air she held the candle higher as she approached the mirror, horrified to see the beautiful gold frame held nothing but shards of glass. But of course, she should have expected damage, she was naïve not to.

At the very least she could be thankful that the shards of glass had broken the entranceway and she would not have to waste time searching for the lever to the catacombs. Regret filled her as she laid a white hand against the slimy wall of the hall. Not regret that Christine was here, no, never. Even as a chill unlike any other chill bit into her skin and had her shaking to the core, as she listened to rats scurry not far in the distance, and felt the mold against the wall she knew she could never regret going to him. Rather, she regretted not going sooner. Three months, merely to think of the torture had tears springing to her eyes. On shaking legs she continued on in the journey, never before realizing how long of a walk it was, without her angel to guide her. Not an angel, she scolded herself a countless, no angel but a man. A man worthy of sympathy and love but had masked himself away from it.

Three months. It was a vibration in her ear as she stumbled forward into the darkness, the dankness of the cellar dimming the candle in her quivering hand. She held the warmth close to her, the wax on her skin cracking as she flexed her hand toward the heat. Three months of sleepless nights, absence of appetite, silence in a world that should have sang to her, disinterest in anything but the man who had turned her love away. So lost in her thoughts she was surprised when she found herself on the edge of a teetering dock, a boat bobbing in the black depths of a lake she had once likened to the night's sky. The tops of waves being the stars that twinkled up at her as Erik had rowed them to shore. The memory was a knife in her, twisting deeper into her guilt that she had not come sooner.

The journey across the lake was much longer without him to push them along. The image of Raoul holding the rod and struggling at the exertion of pushing their weight along still haunted her, she could not help but wonder if he had heard her leave. She felt truly horrible about it, about leaving her adoring fiancé alone in a house the night before their wedding, without a plan to return to him. Not in the morning, not ever again. Her choice was made of her own free will three months ago, not far from where she was rowing now and she was determined to uphold her end of the bargain.

The breath seemed to leave her body as she froze in her task of rowing the boat. There he stood. Relief overcame her at the very sight of him. Alive and seemingly unchanged at the edge of his home, he stood. Never before had she thought it odd that he would have a boat and lake just outside his home. How odd was it that he lived on a beach void of sunlight and all creatures that would usually deem it a beach. But she pushed those thoughts away as she took him in, rowing quicker now as he stared at her. Those piercing eyes studying her in confusion, he didn't believe she was there. Her heart fell as the words tumbled over again in her mind.

"Erik…" His name left her mouth in barely more than a breath, but he seemed to hear it. Something flashed in his eyes as she clawed at the dock. Stumbling out of the boat and onto the wood she forced her trembling hands to tie the rowboat up as well as she possibly could, she heard the pole clatter into the boat before she turned to face him.

Three months. It was her only thought as she abandoned all sense of propriety and flung herself at him. Boots sinking and slowing her down in the sand as water made her skirts heavy and hard to force her weak body up the hill and toward him. Erik did not move to meet her, his body remained frozen as she approached him in steps that seemed years long.

"Erik!" She was gasping now, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks at the sight of him. Arms wrapped around his thin body without a thought. Stiff against her she ignored his surprise as, with hands shaking uncontrollably now, she reached up and grasped his face. Cool mask against one hand and warm skin in the other she dragged his face down to pull him into a kiss. He did not react but to stare at her with wide eyes, grasping her forearms and pushing her away.

"Erik, what's wrong?" She tripped backwards over her skirt, hardly finding stable legs to stand on as he stared at her.

"You dare come back here!" The flame was in his eyes and she was scared to lose him once again to the anger that had torn them apart before.

"Yes!" Staggering forward she fell to her knees in front of him, clasping one of his cool hands between her much smaller ones, "Yes, Erik, I come before you nothing but a woman ready to give you all that she promised. I am so sorry…" Her hands were empty as he took a step backwards. With his movement she noticed a limp and averted her eyes, but of course, the mob had come hadn't they?

"Why, Christine? Why would you bring yourself back to the devil? You gave me your soul and I abolished it! I want none of your evil here in my home, be gone! Be free! Go find your fiancé. Or is that it?" The sarcasm was rising as she watched him push pain aside and limp toward his door, "Has he abandoned you? Realized you for nothing more than a ballerina pretending to be a prima donna…" She couldn't help but stare at his shaking hand grasp the golden doorknob, the way he leaned his weight onto the door for stability.

"No, no _ange_ I left him. I left him for you, I meant it that night, I did-"

"You meant it, did you?" Flinching at the way he ducked down to her level, the way his cool fingers clasped her chin to raise her eyes to his, "Then what took so long, my love? Three months have come and gone and now you arrive in front of me as a poor excuse for the woman I once loved." Her head snapped to the side as he pushed her chin away and rose to his full height, "I don't want you here, I have no use for you. Leave me."

"I don't believe you." There was no consoling the tears that poured from either of their cheeks as he froze in his tracks back to his door, "I don't believe you and I'm not leaving. Erik, I love you. I will sleep out in the cold if I must but I will not leave you. Not now, not ever. I have dreamed of coming back to you for months…I thought you would come for me," The water and sand were seeping through her dress as she sunk to her lowest form, a sad limp doll clutching at the material at his knees, "Erik, why didn't you come for me?" His touch burned her to the core, the ache so deep within her loosening as he clutched her by the arms and pulled her up to his full height. Tearing the mask from his face he stared at her in defiance.

"Tell me so, now. Tell me you love me, Christine."

"I love you, Erik. I do."

He made no move to her, forcing her to find the braveness that she wished she had carried months ago. Quivering hands grasped his face and she awed in the whimper he released at the contact, Christine pulled him to her in another kiss. This one more certain, hoping that he could feel the burn of the contact from the chastest kiss they'd yet to share. Strong arms were around her in milliseconds, weaving her small form into a clasp against his body so tight that the air left her lungs. Both tripping over her skirts they struggled into the house, Christine blindly trusting him to lead her without fail to his bedroom. She trusted rightly.

In the darkness of his room he dropped the mask to the floor first. Then slowly her layers were removed, revealing the malnourishment she had suffered in the last months of her despair. Ribs protruding, knobby knees shaking, once flushed skin now pale and bleak. But still he saw only through an angel's eye, leaving her quivering as his unsure hands took what she would have willingly gave so long ago. She fought with the materials of his clothes, nervous to undress a man. Embarrassed at the discoveries she made but he was nothing less than encouraging, guiding her hands and pressing misshaped lips to her cheeks as if his coolness might scare the blush away.

Tumbling to the bed, the world was forgotten and finally Christine felt whole. Tears fell unrelenting from his eyes as she marveled at the feeling of his face buried against the side of her neck, lips forming kisses and odes of love. She clutched his scarred back, hoping one day she would learn which scars had come from before her and which scars were put upon him from her selfishness. From her weakness. As if he had heard her thoughts and wished to damn them away, he clasped her face and pulled her into another kiss. She stared up into his face and watched as tears fell quicker now, her gentle fingers caressing each malformed bit of skin, how much pain had been caused because of this face? They found pleasure in unison, their bodies working in harmony as they rode out the waves together. The crests broke over and over, rocking her body into shivers as his body stayed over her, a protective barrier against the cold air of the darkness of his home.

"Did I hurt you?" It was a whisper full of self-hatred as he pressed more fevered kisses to her face and jaw.

"No, no, never, Erik." She adored the flicker of passion in his eyes at the simple use of his name.

"Will you say it again, Christine? Even if it is a lie, please I must hear it once more even if I never am to see you again." Still, her eyes fluttered shut, still he had no trust for her. Giving her body, mind and soul did not seem to be enough, but she could not blame him and would not blame him for their sins of the past. She opened her eyes and smiled fully,

"But it is not a lie, Erik. I love you."

They laid together under his duvet for hours, neither finding sleep with so much joy being relished in each other's presence. Again and again they made love, pleasure overcoming them both and leaving them in tears as she found herself trying to memorize every detail of his body. Lips lingering over scars, fingers trailing over the distinctness of his spine, eyes and lips taken by his. "Home." She whispered as he pulled her to his bare chest, hands tangled in her hair as if every lock was a piece of silk that he cherished more than life itself. Apologies went unspoken as they found love in each other's skin, all other deeds and sins forgotten as every touch and embrace told from the heart what their lips could not. Such a strange turn of events and yet she did not find herself worrying about Raoul awakening to an empty house or her career here at the opera house. They would have to move, of course, they whispered to each other over the sound of rustling sheets, Raoul would not abandon his case.

"You will lose your home, your everything, because of me." Her apology was a gentle kiss to his temple as she slowly stroked the tormented skin which had been so forgotten by the rest of the world.

"I have my home in you. I have everything if I have you, Christine."

"Then you have me, all of me."


End file.
